Found in Odd Situations
by Fire Bear1
Summary: Alfred is an actor in an adult film company which prides itself in original story-telling. Directed by Francis, he is often admired by ladies and men alike. However, Francis also specialises in gay couples. Alfred is rather hard to partner however and, when they hire a new actor, Alfred finds himself attracted to him. But why is Arthur so cold to him?
1. First Time

_**I apologise for what will follow. I don't know where this idea came from but I loved the idea for it. The main idea won't be revealed till later, though. ****  
**_

_**Also, I couldn't think of a title for the story as a whole so... That's why the name sucks.**_

* * *

The blonde American walked into his place of work and grinned at the girl behind the front desk. "Hiya!" he said, cheerily. "Which room am I in today?"

The dark-haired woman smiled up at him, blushing slightly. "Room seventeen, Alfred," she said, quietly. He nodded at her and passed her by, much to her disappointment. Alfred wasn't sure why she was so disappointed – it was a well known fact that he was gay.

He got into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. Slowly, it carried him up past the few floors which were actually used by the hotel for their patrons. This was separated from the top levels by two corridors of "storage". These unused rooms had within them the tools of Alfred's trade and they prevented noises reaching the innocent patrons who didn't know what went on above.

Finally, he reached his destination and entered into a dim hallway. The only light came from lamps on the tables placed at regular intervals along the corridor. The thick, black curtains were pulled tight across the windows so that no-one could see the goings-on within the building. Of course, if they wanted to see them, they could always wait.

Alfred made his way to the other end of the corridor, where he knew the room was. As he passed Room Fifteen, what he like to call the Chain Room, he heard an exclamation from within. "Più! Più profondo!" He grinned: he could feel himself getting into the mood.

At the room, he knocked and entered. The room was not locked and, inside, no-one was waiting. There was a large bed with soft sheets, this time with a simple pattern of roses. The bedside cabinet also held a vase of roses and petals were strewn across the bed. Two, large professional cameras were pointed towards it. A third hung from the ceiling, safely secured. A microphone and sound equipment were propped up in one of the corners. A folding chair was set opposite the bed, as far back as possible. Alfred shrugged and sat on it, leaning back a little.

For a while, nothing else happened. Then, suddenly, he heard someone approach and the door was opened. He looked round to find Francis, Gilbert and Antonio entering. Francis seemed happy, Gilbert looked smug and Antonio was grinning as usual. The blonde director walked to the chair and stood facing Alfred. His blue eyes bored into his and the American grinned before standing and moving out of the way. The man rolled his eyes before sitting down and crossing his legs, elegantly. Today he was wearing a white shirt open far down his chest and his trousers were a little tighter than normal. Alfred approved but said nothing. The German cameraman, meanwhile, was making sure the cameras were all working and pointing in the right direction. He was wearing his usual red hoodie and jeans. A little yellow bird badge was pinned to his shoulder. Alfred still wasn't sure what it meant. As this was going on, Antonio picked up his microphone and placed a set of headphones on his ears. Then he started humming to himself. The Spaniard was in a simple t-shirt and jeans, as well. Whatever was written in Spanish was probably funny but Alfred had never grasped the language. He hadn't grasped a lot of things: that was why he was here.

"So, didja get a new guy, then?" he asked his French director. "When's he getting here?"

"Well, you are unusually early, cher," said Francis, spreading his hands with a smile. "I told both of you to be here in five minutes. Before we start, though, I must say: this will probably be that man's first time at doing something like this. So be nice to him, oui?"

"Sure! I'll be heroic as always!"

"Oui, oui," said Francis as there came a knock on the door. "Entrez!"

Slowly, the door opened, as if the person on the other side was rather hesitant about entering. A smaller blonde man entered, glancing around, taking everything in. Finding Francis, he gazed at him with hesitant green eyes. He seemed to be rather lean but not too thin – he might have even had muscles but they were hidden by his t-shirt which proclaimed he loved London. In fact, he was rather attractive, a fine fit for Alfred. The only problem were his thick eyebrows. Alfred had never seen anything like it.

"Mr. Bonnefoy," said the man, rather stiffly. Alfred immediately recognised the accent as British. He loved that accent; he wasn't sure why, but he loved it. "I'm here but..." He glanced at Alfred. "What exactly is it that I'm going to be doing again?"

Francis chuckled. "Well, you will be doing Alfred," he said with a smirk, gesturing at the tall American. Alfred grinned in response. The Brit glanced at him before glaring at the director once again.

"I was not aware of this situation. May we discuss this privately somewhere?"

"Oui! Let us go to another room, mon cher, et we can discuss it to our hearts' content."

The man glowered but followed the Frenchman from the room. Alfred blinked. "What's up with him?" he asked Gilbert.

"I do not know, Alfred," said Gilbert. "Never met him before, so I couldn't say. You are all set to be filmed, ja?"

"Yeah! Let's see the script, though. Francis said it wasn't ready when I asked for it a few days ago." Gilbert nodded and handed Alfred the script. The American glanced at the lines he had to say. It was the typical sort of things said after a first date. He smiled. A first date for a first time, huh? Francis was being generous with this man. He must have taken a real shine to the newcomer. He quickly learned his lines – and the man's name. "Arthur" was written at his lines. It was a rather heroic name, Alfred felt. Kingly, too. With each new revelation, he was growing more attractive. The audience would love that.

After placing the script back on Francis' chair, Alfred sat on the bed, careful not to disturb the rose petals. Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You know not to touch anything Alfred. How many times do we have to tell you, dummkopf?"

Alfred laughed loudly. "It's not going to matter!"

"Francis will still be upset, sí?" said Antonio, smiling kindly. Alfred always got the sense that the Spaniard thought of him as someone who needed to be babied.

He shrugged. "We can fix it later or something."

At that point, the door opened again and Francis and the new man came in. The Brit looked irritated and uneasy. Alfred wondered what was wrong. Before he could ask, however, Francis handed Arthur the script and sat down. After waiting for Arthur to learn his few lines, he spoke with a tone of authority. "Places, everyone, s'il vous plait!" Arthur walked to the door and stood, facing the room. He scowled at nothing, seemingly preparing himself. Gilbert turned one of the cameras to face him. Alfred, meanwhile, moved to stand before the bed. He spread his arms wide and waited for the word. Gil checked that the other camera was pointed at him and then gave Francis the thumbs up. He nodded and smiled. "Action!"

"Well? What d'ya think?" Alfred asked Arthur, now completely ignoring the other three. He gazed at the Brit who stared back at him before looking around at the roses, looking rather shocked. Alfred was impressed by his skill as an actor if he could look so alarmed after seeing the room beforehand.

"You... did all this... for me?" he asked, hesitantly, stepping forward a little. His clipped British tones sent a pleasant shiver down Alfred's spine and his heart rate increased. He decided not to hide it.

"Yeah! I heard you like roses so I got a whole load of red ones!" He turned and plucked one from the bedside cabinet. Turning, he saw a shocked Arthur with a hand to his chest, his fingers curled slightly, his eyes wide. Grinning, he tore off most of the stem and moved to stand before his new partner. The camera followed him but he paid it no heed as he placed the rose in Arthur's hair. "They suit you well," he added, smiling down at him.

Arthur gazed up at him, speechless. "I... How did you...? They're my favourite..." he managed to say. Alfred was beginning to lose track of what he was doing. How could this man be such a good actor? He placed his hand at the newcomer's cheek and smiled at him.

"I know because I want to everything about you, Arthur."

"You... do? Why...?"

Alfred once again laughed loudly. Arthur glanced up at him in surprise, a blush appearing on his cheeks. It was such a cute appearance that Alfred also flushed a little, unaware that the cameras were catching this unusual occurrence. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Huh-?" began Arthur but he was cut off as Alfred leaned in for a kiss. "Mmf!" he heard Arthur say. He could see the man's surprise in his wide emerald orbs before he closed his own blue ones. Gently, cautiously, he wrapped his arms around the smaller man. Alfred held him close as he felt around his mouth for an opening. Finding one, he slipped his tongue in. For a moment, he was worried when he didn't feel a response: it wouldn't look good on camera and they'd have to start over. However, after a few seconds, Alfred felt the other's tongue slip into his mouth. The American took that chance to entwine their tongues.

Then, once he had deemed it enough to get anyone watching hot and bothered, Alfred tightened his grip on Arthur and picked him up. He carried him to the bed as the Brit struggled, trying to get away from his mouth to speak, to say his lines. Alfred grinned and kissed him each time he managed to get his mouth free. Finally, he dropped his partner on the bed and knelt over him, smiling down at him.

"Just-! What-?! What on Earth are you doing?!" Arthur exclaimed. His blush had spread and he looked much more attractive than he had a moment ago.

Happily, Alfred replied simply. "You know what this is. And you want to do this, don't you?"

"I... I... I don't..." said Arthur, looking away. His eyes shone and his blush darkened. He looked a little upset. Alfred guessed that many a person looked like this when they were trying to hide their feelings from someone. This had been in the script but he hadn't realised it would be this realistic. He almost wanted to stop, concerned for him. Then he remembered the script and leaned forward, kissing Arthur's cheek.

"I know you do, Arthur. Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

Arthur looked back at him. "A-Alfred... Will... Will it really be all right?"

"Sure!" Alfred grinned.

"W-Well... As long as... you're gentle."

Alfred grinned and kissed his new partner full on the lips. He quickly removed Arthur's top, throwing his own on top of it. When he looked back down, Arthur was looking to the side. This wasn't in the bare-boned script – Francis wrote the lines and the story leading up to the sex but, afterwards, they were mostly on their own. "Arthur?"

He looked round, his eyes widening in shock. Perhaps he hadn't realised his distraction. "S-Sorry! The... The roses. I can smell them. It's quite relaxing." He smiled at Alfred and the American felt his heart skip a beat as he looked down at the worried and blushing man. He was really handsome – the eyebrows, formerly something not considered good, didn't detract from his looks at all. "And... And I have something to tell you..." Alfred recognised the line from the script, though he didn't care for the timing. Francis could be a little sadistic when it came to writing these scripts. "I... This is my first time... actually... bedding a man... I have never gotten this far... before."

Brushing Arthur's eyebrows with a thumb, Alfred smiled gently. "It's okay." Then he leant forward and kissed him between his eyebrows. He sat up a little to see the surprise on Arthur's face before leaning over again to kiss him at the bridge of his nose. He continued to kiss him: on his nose, his mouth, his jaw, his collarbone. When he reached there, he received a gasp of surprise and Arthur tensed. Grinning, he moved to kiss him on the neck.

He gasped again. "Alfred! Wait! I-!" But Alfred stopped him from saying anything further by kissing him full on the mouth. Once again, he slipped in his tongue. This time, however, once he had wrapped his tongue around the other's, he made the kiss last longer. He felt himself getting turned on: his heart was beating faster and he could feel himself pressing against his jeans. He'd have to take them off soon. He broke the kiss and watched Arthur panting. He had turned really red and his eyes seemed to be watering. Alfred smiled and kissed at his neck, sucking and nibbling. A moan escaped Arthur's lips and Alfred felt happy.

Now that Arthur had stopped protesting, Alfred moved back to his chest. He kissed along his lean frame, marvelling that it looked so good despite the lack of muscles. Finally, he reached one of Arthur's nipples. He heard a gasp and he glanced up at Arthur who had propped himself on his elbows to look at him. As he opened his mouth, Alfred kissed his new target before placing his lips around it. He began to suck, using his tongue as much as possible. He heard another gasp and glanced up: Arthur had his head thrown back, presumably in pleasure. Alfred lifted his hand and touched Arthur's neck before tracing his way to the other nipple. He felt the Brit shiver underneath him. When he reached the other one, he began to squeeze and roll it between finger and thumb. There was another gasp followed by an exclamation: "A-Al... fred!"

Grinning again, Alfred continued kissing his way down to Arthur's pants. He heard the gasp as he reached the waistband and grinned. "W-Wait..." muttered Arthur. Frowning at the words, Alfred moved further down to his crotch. He took him in his mouth without taking his clothes off and sucked a little. "Ah!" he heard Arthur say as he squirmed beneath him. "No... Don't... Not... Take them off..." Arthur said through his panting.

"Sure thing, babe!" said Alfred. He hurriedly unzipped and pulled of the pants, Arthur's rather British underwear soon joining them. His grin wide once again, Alfred kissed at Arthur's leg, close to his lower regions but not close enough to touch him. He felt Arthur tensing again and smirked. Licking up his leg, he heard the sigh from Arthur followed by another gasp as he turned his head and licked at his rod. He licked up and down it, nibbling slightly. Arthur gasped and moaned and tried to speak but Alfred ignored him, concentrating on what he was doing. Finally, he took all of him in his mouth.

"N-No!" gasped Arthur. He propped himself on his elbows and Alfred looked up at him. He almost opened his mouth in shock. Arthur's face had turned a dark shade of red. His eyebrows twisted into a mixed expression of worry and holding back pleasure. That face... Alfred's heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat. He could feel himself get very turned on and he ached to pull his pants off. In all his years of making these films, he had never felt like this simply from seeing someone's erotic expression. Was this something which had eluded him for so long? Was this what everyone called love? It couldn't be... He stared at Arthur, who gazed back through the haze of lust. "D-Don't do that! I... I'll come. Stop!"

"Ju' cu'," Alfred mumbled around Arthur who gasped and moaned at the sensation. The American felt a sudden desire and desperation to make Arthur happy and to help him climax. He began to bob his head up and down, sucking and licking, raking his teeth along him. The Brit cried out several times but he seemed to be holding back. Alfred stopped for breath and held his leg carefully. "Arthur... You don't need to hold back," he muttered as he kissed his thigh.

"Nngh!" was the only response he received. Glancing up at him with a smile, he noticed Arthur's hands clutching the sheets. Alfred's smile widened and he stooped again, taking him in his mouth. Slowly, he made his way further down, finally getting all of it in his mouth. "Ah!" he heard. "Co-Com-! Nnngh!" Alfred felt the sticky substance run down his throat. He forced himself not to let go, swallowing all of it – another first on camera. He came up, wiping at his mouth. Alfred froze as he saw Arthur's state.

The British man was red-faced and panting. There were tears at his eyes which shimmered and shone. Seeing Alfred looking, he gasped and raised an arm, covering his face. He shook his head. Before Arthur could speak, however, Alfred gently pulled the arm away so that they were looking at each other. "Don't," he murmured, smiling down at the man.

The hesitant smile he received in reply caused Alfred to remember his own needs and he began to unbuckle his belt. He fumbled with it and, frustrated, was about to curse – something Francis despised – when he felt hands gently help him. He looked at Arthur and they smiled at each other. Just as quickly as it had come, Arthur's smile vanished, his cheeks turning red once more. Alfred ignored this and kicked off his pants, revealing himself. The Brit's eyes widened. Alfred's smile widened to a grin. "It's big, ain't it?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and smirked at him. "I've seen bigger," he said, teasingly.

"Oh? So how many men have you spied on in the showers?" asked Alfred with a laugh. As Arthur blushed, Alfred leant forward and kissed him, their tongues melding with each other. The American then reached down and spread Arthur's legs before finding his destination.

"W-Wait," breathed Arthur as he pulled away from Alfred. He seemed a little worried but Alfred just reassured him with a smile. He grabbed a condom from the bedside table and slipped it on before sticking his fingers in Arthur's mouth. He felt Arthur's tongue lick them a little hesitantly but he pulled them out before there was any protest. "A-Ah!" Arthur whispered as Alfred pushed gently into him. He gasped and groaned, his back arching at the contact.

"Just bear with it," Alfred whispered into his ear as he pushed further in. Once he had gotten it in as far as he could, he inserted another one, relishing the cries and gasps from the other man. When they were both in, he widened the entrance, slowly, letting Arthur get used to it. Soon, Arthur had stopped gasping in pain and pleasure and was only moaning softly. Judging it to be time, Alfred pushed against Arthur who moaned and gazed at him through a haze of lust. Then he thrust in and Arthur cried out, tears at his eyes. Alfred gazed down at his partner, his own eyes clouding with lust as he felt Arthur tense around him. It felt glorious, better than anything he had felt before. After waiting for a moment to let Arthur grow accustomed to him, he began his steady thrusting. Gathering up Arthur in his arms, he pressed his body into the smaller man's. He felt Arthur's arms surround him, his nails digging into his back.

For several minutes they continued like this: thrusting, groaning, gripping, kissing. Finally, Alfred felt the pressure to be too much and he let go. Soon after, Arthur did the same. Panting, Alfred pulled out and, after getting rid of the condom, he flopped down onto the bed beside the smaller man. Arthur's eyes were half-closed and he was breathing heavily. Smiling at how cute the Brit was, especially with the rose still in his hair, Alfred pulled him into an embrace. "You can sleep now," he whispered.

"But..."

He put a finger to Arthur's lips. "We can talk in the morning."

"Coupez!" The shout echoed around the room and Alfred blinked. Arthur looked round blearily. Francis was sitting on his chair, leaning forward. The red in his cheeks indicated to Alfred that what they had been doing had not only been good for the film but had also turned Francis on. Glancing at Gilbert, he saw that he was blushing and hiding himself by sitting on the stool attached to one of his cameras. Antonio was just grinning. The director clapped, smirking at Arthur. "Bravo. Especially for your first time being filmed doing something like this, oui?"

Alfred suddenly felt firm hands pushing him away. Surprised, he slid off the bed and landed, hard. Arthur stood, searching for his clothes. A scowl was on his face and he grabbed the flower from his hair, throwing it aside. It landed on Alfred's lap and he stared at it. "Shut up!" growled the Brit, suddenly vicious.

"Now, now, cher. There is no need to be like that," said the Frenchman with a frown.

Arthur pulled on his underwear and pants, wincing every so often. He grabbed his shirt, glancing at Alfred to scowl at him. "You told me I had to act – you never said anything about actually doing it."

"Well, desolé, cher. I like realism in my films. I thought you knew that."

The newcomer glared around the room. "Well, if you must know, that hurt!" A blush crept across his cheeks. "I've never done it like that before!"

A silence descended. Then Antonio laughed, encouraging Alfred, Francis and Gilbert to do the same. "So it really was your first time?" said the Spaniard through his laughter.

The blush darkened and Arthur looked unimpressed. He growled and pulled on his shirt. "If that's everything...?" he said pointedly.

"Oui, that was perfect. Merci beaucoup!"

"Good! I'm leaving," snapped Arthur and left the room.

Francis chuckled. "Are you going to let him leave, Alfred, chéri?

"Huh?" said Alfred, standing up. The rose fell but he grabbed it before it reached the floor. Looking round, he grabbed his own clothes. "Why should I go after him?"

"Well, if he decides to quit, you know what will happen, oui?" Alfred froze and glanced at Francis. The Frenchman was smiling slightly, watching to see his choice. He knew well what would happen if he lost another partner. He had already had multiple partners for these films. But none of them had been the right fit and they had coupled with others whom Francis had employed. Whenever that happened, there was no use for Alfred – but no other income for the American. So Francis took pity on him and paid him. Yet, he couldn't pay him for nothing: there had to be a use for him. So, to keep himself in a job and to pay for food, Alfred had offered to have sex with Francis. He had accepted and it had been commonplace since then, with the way Alfred went through partners.

Adjusting his glasses which had managed to stay on his face throughout, Alfred hurried to the door, carrying his clothes and the rose. Getting out of the room, he looked down the corridor and saw Arthur just getting to the elevator doors. "Hey! Wait!" Alfred called down the corridor. When Arthur turned to see who was there, he gaped at the taller man as he came rushing towards him, his bundle of clothes the only thing keeping him decent.

"What the-?! What are you doing?! Put your clothes on!"

Alfred grinned and hurriedly pulled on his boxers and pants. "Hey, don't leave just yet!"

"My job here is done," said Arthur, crossing his arms. "I don't need to stay here."

"Well, I didn't mean you didn't need to leave," said Alfred as he pulled his shirt back on. "I just meant you shouldn't leave without me!" He grinned at the smaller man and held out the flower. Arthur's eyes narrowed and he took it from him.

"And why exactly would that be?"

"Since we're gonna be working together, we should get to know each other, right? I know a diner near here. We could go get something to eat! I'm starved!"

The British man seemed dubious, and looked him up and down as the elevator arrived. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to get to know my workmate..."

"Cool! Let's go!" Alfred grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him into the elevator. He ignored the man's protests and kept hold of it as he pressed the button for the first floor.

* * *

Arthur did not seem impressed by the 24 hour diner. He glared around the interior and then back at Alfred who only smiled at him in response. He hadn't expected Arthur to accompany him and he was rather happy that he had. A date with this man – he hadn't even thought about that with anyone else he'd worked with but with Arthur everything was different. Just being near him was both relaxing and nerve-racking.

A waitress came over and took their order. Alfred ordered coffee and a few burgers. Arthur chose some waffles and a cup of tea. Once she had gone, Alfred fished for something to talk about. "Um... Where do you come from? London?" He nodded at the t-shirt.

The Brit clicked his tongue. "Yes. But that's not why I'm wearing this. Francis told me to wear something which told people where I came from. And I found this."

"Ah. Well, I'm from New York."

"I see." In the silence that followed, Arthur glanced round. Alfred followed his gaze and saw that he was gazing at a waitress with a large chest. She had just bent over to place the order on the table of a scruffy-looking man with a lot of stubble. Perhaps a trucker. When Alfred looked back round, Arthur was staring back at him. "So, you're gay?"

"Yup. Or I was the last time I checked. I suppose it was because of my love of superheroes. The ones I like are all guys so, y'know." He grinned and shrugged. "You?"

The other man just raised an eyebrow. "And you've been having sex for money for how long?"

Deciding not to mention his trysts with Francis, Alfred corrected him. "You mean, acting in an adult film, right? A few years now. How come you're just starting out, anyway?"

A blush crept across Arthur's face and Alfred admired him with a small smile. Arthur looked up when the waitress appeared and set their meals in front of them. Alfred pounced on his and began to eat. Perhaps feeling an obligation to continue the conversation, Arthur spoke once he had had a sip of his tea. "I'm an actor. I've been in a few advertisements and some of those picture stories for columns. But... I can't seem to get hired by anyone around here."

"Yeah, L.A. is awful for that," Alfred said with a nod. "What sort of commercials?"

The blush deepened. "For... For medicine... It doesn't matter! Er, I mean... Wh... Why are you doing this, then? You didn't just decide to become one, did you?"

"Nah," said Alfred as he finished off a burger and took a gulp of coffee. "I wanted to be a superhero when I was a kid. Then I grew up and wanted to be an astronaut. But I didn't get into NASA so I tried to become a rocket scientist. But I couldn't keep up with what they were wanting. So I thought I'd make awesome video games. But, uh, I couldn't get accepted to an art school. And my comic books were all rejected. So I thought I'd become an actor." He shrugged. "Unless you're _awesome_, you don't get into anything round here. Besides, I didn't really have my heart set on it. I was ready to give up on that idea till Francis found me! And he told me what he wanted and I thought: I can do that!"

"I hope he explained it to you better than what he said to me. Those damn hints didn't make a blind bit of sense! And I understood him entirely wrong!" Arthur jabbed a fork into his waffle. "Tsk! Now I hurt all over!"

"Hey, what _did_ you think we were doing?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he glanced out the window. "It... Well... I thought... It doesn't matter, okay?"

"Aw, c'mon. I mean, we've had sex – you can tell me anything!"

"_Would you keep it down?!_" Arthur hissed across the table.

"Hm?" said Alfred as he polished off his third burger.

"Tsk! Forget it. I'm going home." Arthur pulled out his wallet and threw some bills on the table. Alfred's eyes widened.

"Hey, no, wait!" he exclaimed, grabbing the man's wrist. Arthur looked at him blankly. "Er... Well... Can we meet up before the next filming? We... can talk when you're not tired or grumpy or whatever. Here." He quickly grabbed a napkin and looked round for a pen. One dropped on the table – Arthur had given him one he had in his pocket. The American grinned and scribbled down his number. "Here. Call me, 'kay?"

Arthur took the napkin with a sigh. "I'll think about it. And it will depend on other responsibilities." He slipped it into his pocket with a wince and left. Alfred smiled. He had taken the number so that was something. He stared into space as he ate the rest of his burgers. His eyes widened as he realised that Arthur had left his pen behind. Should he go after him? Or was it a present? He picked it up and stared at it, not noticing that he was wiping his mouth on a napkin with a certain waitress' number on it...

* * *

_**Er, sorry if Alfred and Francis seem a bit... slutty? And I'm not too clued up on adult films so I don't know whether they actually do it or not (I'm trying to be rather vague, just in case this site doesn't like me for this). But in this one they do cause of Francis' insistence. Though... I don't think any of them mind.  
**_

_**Some things which will not turn up in the story but are there: There are other people who are filmed. These include GerIta (hence the Italian calling out when Alfred went by), GiriPan, RoChu and DenNor. Tino and Berwald were offered but Tino refused and Berwald didn't want to upset him so they never discussed it further. There is Spamano happening somewhere, just not filmed - Lovino is actually in charge of a business empire (he doesn't do much, it was inherited from his grandfather and all he needs to do is approve of this or that). Antonio goes to visit since he's friends with him and Feliciano (from work) and Lovino, despite saying they're not a couple, always grabs him as soon as he's through the door and drags him to bed. There are other couples which will turn up or be hinted at later so I won't say any more here.**_

_**The advert Arthur acted in - basically the same sort of one Sam from Supernatural had to do that one time in the episode Changing Channels.**_

_**"I can do that!" - I was reading it over and could only think of Chekov from Star Trek...**_

_**Also, just in case: The point of this story is that Alfred falls in love with Arthur during the filming. But... Arthur doesn't seem to like him back... And the story will revolve around why he doesn't want to... So it's not really about the stuff they do in that hotel... But that will, er, feature heavily.**_

_**Another thing: I know pretty much how many chapters there'll be. Another 4 chapters, an epiloge and then an extra which will be from Arthur's POV.**_

_**Sorry for the badly written adult film scene. Like I said, I wanted to be as vague as possible but then I came across the problem of naming parts without naming them... And I've never really done this before so, um... Sorry. *bows deeply in apology*  
**_


	2. Second Meeting

Alfred was terrified that Arthur had quit. He didn't get any calls from him and, whenever he contacted Francis, the director told him he was busy and would discuss it later. He sat in his apartment, staring at his phone, willing Holding Out For a Hero by Bonnie Tyler to play.

His brother noticed the change. "Alfred, I think you should go out," Matthew told him a week after the encounter with Arthur. They were supposed to be filming at night but Alfred had heard no word from Francis about a script.

"Out where?" he asked sullenly.

"A movie, maybe? There's a new hero one out, isn't there?"

The young American glanced up at the blonde. They were twins so they looked really similar. Matthew, however, had violet eyes and a little curl which stuck out instead of a cowlick. He seemed slighter than Alfred but that was perhaps his demeanour rather than his size. "Yeah," he replied. "But I don't wanna go with you... I wanna go with..." he sighed and glanced at his phone.

Matthew smiled as he sat down across from him. He studied Alfred who was lying on his stomach, hugging a pillow and twirling a useless spoon in his fingers – he had already finished the ice cream. "He's really gotten you lovestruck, hasn't he?" he said.

"What?!" exclaimed Alfred, sitting up slightly. "W-Who? I mean... What are you talking about?"

"It's rather obvious, Alfred," Matthew told him gently. "You're in love. Is he from the company?"

Alfred blushed lightly, averting his gaze. "Y-Yes... He was a new start last week. But... He hasn't called me at all. I thought he might just wait a day or two at least. But it's been a week!" He looked at his brother miserably. "I don't think he likes me very much..."

"Well, do not give up. Try your hardest to be understanding and-" Matthew broke off and stared at the phone which was singing about needing a hero.

The lovestruck American grabbed his phone and answered it. "Yo?" he greeted the caller excitedly.

British tones sounded through the earpiece. "Alfred?"

"Arthur?! Is that you? Boy, I thought you weren't gonna call me at all!"

"I... Well, I have some time before tonight. Would you like to go out for dinner? A proper and longer conversation?"

Alfred was thrilled. A date with Arthur! He was so lucky! "Yes! Yes, of course! Meet in that diner again?" he suggested.

"No!" exclaimed Arthur hurriedly. "No... Just... Meet me at The Parish in South Spring Street. I hear it's good."

"Uh, yeah, sure!" said Alfred, not having heard of it before. "I'll be right there!"

"Good. I'll see you soon."

Before Alfred could say anything else, Arthur had hung up. He flipped his phone closed and looked up at Matthew sheepishly. "I won't be in for dinner," he told his brother.

Matthew only smiled and nodded. "I understand. All the more for me and Gil, I suppose."

Grinning, Alfred stood and stretched. "You two are really getting along well," he observed.

"Eh, yes," said Matthew, blushing.

Alfred didn't give Matthew a chance to continue. Staring down at his clothes he began to bemoan how awful he looked. His brother watched him and chuckled before helping him.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Alfred arrived at the restaurant. Arthur was waiting, wearing a black suit, crisp white shirt, neat black tie and shined black shoes. Alfred came up behind him as he was checking his watch. He was wearing a chequered blue, white and red shirt over a plain, dark blue t-shirt. His jeans were low, inviting, a belt inefficiently wrapped around them.

Grinning, he tapped Arthur's shoulder, satisfied when he heard his slight intake of breath. He turned and looked up at Alfred with a startled expression. It made Alfred want to wrap his arms around him and protect the Brit. "Yo!" he said with a grin.

Arthur sighed in relief. "Hello, Alfred," he said. "Shall we go inside?"

"Sure! I can't wait to try this place! Er, it's not too expensive, is it?"

"Don't worry: we should be able to afford it between us." With that Arthur opened the door and held it open for the American. Alfred blushed slightly, happy that he was on a date with such a considerate gentleman. They entered and were faced by a maitre d'.

"Name?" he asked in a bored tone.

"We don't have a reservation," explained Arthur. "But, if possible, we would like a table for two?"

"Hm," said the man, checking his list. "There is one on the upstairs patio. Would that do for you, sir?"

"Indeed, thank you," said Arthur. They followed the employee up the stairs to a table which overlooked the streets. Cars sped by below them and a homeless man shuffled along the sidewalk. They sat and were handed the menus. Arthur nodded his thanks. Alfred followed suit, gazing round at the restaurant. There was a brief silence as "Could we have a bottle of Château Bel Air, please," said Arthur. "No need for anything too fancy," he added to Alfred with a small smile.

The maitre d' nodded his understanding and left to grab a waiter. Once he had gone, Alfred looked across the table at Arthur, a wide smile on his face. "This is... Wow. I mean, I usually just go to diners or McDonald's."

"Yes, well, I prefer better food than that," Arthur replied, rolling his eyes. He was smiling, though, and Alfred felt happy that he had made that happen.

They looked at their menus and Alfred realised why they were there. The food had a little of an English theme to it. Alfred wondered if Arthur was a little homesick. "Hm," he said, drawing Arthur's attention to him. "What do you think I should get?" He ran his eyes over the menu. "Oh, hey! Poutine. My brother loves this stuff."

"Brother? You have a brother?" asked Arthur, sounding interested.

"Yeah, a twin. He's younger. You have brothers?"

"Yes, I do. A few older ones and one younger."

"Oh, cool! Your family must be huge!"

"Of course," said Arthur, though he sounded bitter. Alfred was about to ask when he continued. "You can get poutine if you want. I think I'll go for the pork rib chop. I wish there were some good fish and chips, though."

"How very British," said Alfred in his best attempt at a British accent. Arthur looked up in surprise before laughing.

"That was horrible!" he managed through his laughter.

"I bet you do a horrible American accent," said Alfred with a fake pout.

Arthur grinned at the challenge. "I can sound like an American if I want, y'know," he said in a rather good approximation of the accent. Alfred pouted more.

"Okay, so it was pretty good. But mine can't have been that bad."

"It was good if you want to be in an American film from the 80s," said Arthur with a smirk.

"That's mean!" wailed Alfred, attracting their neighbours' attention.

"Alfred!" whispered Arthur, glancing at the other patrons, a blush forming on his cheeks. "Don't be so loud!"

"Why not?" asked Alfred, grinning now.

The Englishman rolled his eyes. "We have no idea who's here. I have another job, you know. I don't want them catching wind of what I'm doing tonight. I might get fired. Incidentally, why are you not wearing a suit? Francis called me to say that I was to wear a business suit."

With a shrug, Alfred told him, "He didn't call me. Maybe he just wants you to be in a suit? I wish he'd given us the script, though. It would make more sense. I hope it's not some sort of 'trouble in the relationship' scenario tonight. Anyway, what's your other job?"

"It's..." Arthur seemed embarrassed. "A waiter. In a diner. Like the one we were in last week."

"Really? And here I thought you didn't like them," Alfred teased with a grin.

Arthur grimaced. "I don't. That's why I don't like talking about it."

"Aw, c'mon. What else are we going to talk about?"

"Well... Where we come from? Likes, dislikes? People getting to know each other usually start with that sort of thing."

"We already know where we come from, though. We talked about that last week."

"I meant-" Arthur was interrupted by a waiter arriving with their wine. He poured each of them a little and waited for the verdict. Alfred had seen this on TV – you were meant to sniff at it and then swirl a mouthful. If you liked it, you kept it. In fact, as he glanced at his companion, he noticed that he was doing just that. When he put down the glass, he nodded appreciatively. "This is good, thank you. Is it all right for you, Alfred?"

"Uh, well..." Alfred hurriedly sniffed at it. The smell almost made him cough – it did not smell good at all. It was as though the alcohol was going straight into his brain. He suppressed the cough and took a sip, swirling around. It was disgusting. He could taste the grapes, but the alcohol was too strong for him. He needed something sweeter. However, he swallowed and nodded, not trusting himself to speak in case he coughed from the strength.

"Will there be anything else, sirs?" asked the waiter.

Alfred really wanted a soda. But if he asked, would Arthur think him unsophisticated? Would he cut their date short? He glanced at the Brit and saw him surveying him suspiciously. Alfred bit his lip, wondering what to do.

"I think a Coca Cola would be a good idea," Arthur told the waiter who nodded and left.

"Coke?" asked Alfred, trying to grin teasingly.

"It would be best if you could actually drink something without grimacing," said Arthur with a kind smile. His expression made Alfred's heart flutter. He gave Arthur an apologetic look.

"I don't drink wine," he explained. "I prefer alcohol with a disguised taste. Y'know, like, rum and coke, vodka coke, things like that."

The nod of understanding helped to relax Alfred a little. However, he was beginning to get nervous. He had almost ruined their date right at the beginning. He had to get the rest of the night right. He thought ahead to what they were going to be doing: dinner, dessert, trip to the hotel, sex. An image from last week, Arthur's reddened happy face, flashed into his mind. Instantly, he felt himself getting a little hard. _Uh oh,_ he thought. This was going to be harder than he thought...

Arthur was unaware of this, however. He was gazing around the restaurant, admiring the décor. "This place is quite nice. It could do without the homeless people," he added, pointing downwards. "But what can anyone do about it?" he added, shrugging. The action caused his tie to get stuck, crumpled, and he straightened it out, running his hands over his chest. Alfred gulped, wishing the soda would get to their table faster.

"Well, I suppose they could help them to get off the streets?" suggested Alfred, trying not to look into those jade eyes of his.

His partner laughed. "Yes, I suppose that's the most sensible course of action." He stopped for the waiter who returned with the Coke and took their orders. Once he had left, Arthur moved the conversation along. "So, what was New York like to grow up in?"

With a smile, Alfred explained. "Well, it was fun. Y'know, running around, doing kids stuff. I was in the suburbs, after all. But it's just a train ride to Times Square and stuff. I went up the Statue of Liberty more times than I can count! I had a normal enough childhood. My parents moved to L.A. when me and Mattie were sixteen. Mattie has this high-flying job in a company owned by some Italian guy called Vargas or something." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I have absolutely no idea what he does but don't tell him that."

Arthur laughed. "Sounds nice. My family lived in Kensington. That's the rich part of London," he added when Alfred looked confused.

"Oh, so you're rich?"

"My _family_ is rich," Arthur corrected.

"Aren't you by extension?" Alfred prompted.

"No. I don't get any of their money any more." Arthur looked sad suddenly and Alfred felt an ache in his heart. He couldn't do anything to relieve that sadness, he presumed. It was to do with his family and he couldn't fix that. And it hurt Alfred to know that Arthur could be so saddened. "I have to make my own way," Arthur continued with a small smile.

"Family troubles?" Alfred asked, uncharacteristically quiet.

His companion's lips twitched in a half-smile. "Yes... I got into arguments with them quite a lot. My desired career is not... suitable... for them." He sighed. "But I think it will not matter that they will not be present when I make it big. I'll have people surrounding me who support my choices. Even if they're the wrong ones." He gazed out into the distance and Alfred decided to let the subject rest.

He took a sip of his Coke and sighed in relief. Arthur heard the sigh and chuckled when he noticed why. "What?" asked Alfred, pouting slightly. Arthur only shook his head and picked up his glass of wine. "Well, shall we talk about likes and dislikes?"

"A good idea. Do you like to read?"

"Of course I do!" said Alfred with a grin. "I'm always up-to-date with the latest comics! My favourite has to be Captain America! That guy's so epic!" He almost bounced in his chair. Then he noticed Arthur's look of alarm and deflated. "What's wrong?"

"I meant, do you read books...?" said Arthur hesitantly.

"Yeah, comic books!"

"No, I meant novels and novellas."

"What?"

Arthur laughed. "Oh, dear. Are all Americans like this – an aversion to reading!" He continued to laugh at his own joke, not realising how much it hurt Alfred. Feeling that Arthur thought him stupid, he waited till he had finished before looking up at him. The Brit looked suitably guilty. "Sorry... I just-"

"Think I'm like the stereotype of stupid Americans? You're probably right," said Alfred. "Not that it matters much," he added hurriedly, smiling.

"No, I really am sorry. That was... I think I might be more stupid than you... Far more idiotic. I've put my foot right in it, haven't I? Not that- I mean..." Arthur seemed flustered, flushing red and looking at the table.

Alfred smiled at his face – he was very cute when he was embarrassed. "It's okay, Artie. I don't mind. I am definitely an idiot! A proud idiot! Wooga, wooga!" He waggled his arms around and pulled faces. Arthur looked at him in alarm before he relaxed and laughed at him. Grinning, Alfred decided to move the conversation onto Arthur – it was probably safer than acting like a madman. "So, what do _you_ read? Oh, wait, let me guess – you like Harry Potter, right?"

"Oh, so now _you're_ picking up on stereotypes?" asked Arthur, defensively.

"You love it, don't you?"

He narrowed his eyes at Alfred then grimaced at having been figured out. Smiling slightly, he said, "Yes. I love it. Do you know how many layers it has? I mean, in the first one, the Mirror of Erised – reverse Erised and you get Desire. In fact, the inscription above the mirror – _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ – means I show not your face but your heart's desire. It's in reverse! A _mirror_ image! And then the names of the char-" He broke off when he noticed Alfred's bemused expression and blushed deeply. Once again, Alfred felt his heart skip a beat. "Sorry. I probably shouldn't give you a lecture on something you're not interested in."

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Alfred hurriedly, leaning forward. He almost knocked over his wine glass but he ignored it. Arthur looked alarmed and reached for it as it wobbled. "It's not that I'm not interested! I just have no idea what you're talking about."

Arthur pulled his hand back, his fingers delicately curving in and away from Alfred. The American wanted to reach out and grab it and hold onto it and kiss it. But instead, he watched him place his hand on his lap, shaking his head with an amused expression. "Is that not the same thing?" he asked Alfred.

"No, it isn't. I'd love to know what you think about the books – I just haven't read them so I don't know about this inscription. I've seen the movie. So, the thing on top of the mirror."

The Brit grimaced. "The books are amazing. There are so much that the films cannot go into. And they completely miss out Peeves. And the fact that, once Trelawney was fired by Umbridge, she was replaced by the centaur, Firenze. Neville's parents, too."

"They... died, didn't they?"

"No!" snapped Arthur. "They didn't! That's just it! They're still alive in the books!" He paused, probably noticing Alfred's alarmed expression. "Sorry. Neville's one of my favourite characters."

"Oh..." said Alfred, trying to think of Harry Potter characters he had liked. "I liked... the twins... You know, the ones with the pranks."

"Fred and George," Arthur provided.

"That's the ones! Oh! What was that song...? Viktor, I love you. Viktor, I do..."

Alfred's companion grinned and finished it off for him. "When we're apart my heart beats only for you! "

They grinned at each other for a moment before Alfred spoke again. "So, those are your favourite books?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Arthur, waving his hand dismissively. "I like a lot of books."

"Can I guess them all?" Alfred asked with a teasing smile.

"I don't see why not," said Arthur with a mischievous and inviting smile. Alfred almost stopped breathing at that sight.

Making sure he had his breath back, Alfred began his questioning. "Hm... Let's see. Shakespeare?"

"But thy eternal summer shall not fade – such is my love for the works of Shakespeare," said Arthur, still smiling.

"Nailed it! Right... Um... What's that wizard guy? Merlin or something?"

"That's a TV show, not a book. But I did quite enjoy that. And I adored reading the King Arthur legend when I was younger."

"Well, at least I got it right," said Alfred. "In a way," he added as he spotted Arthur's disbelieving look. "And we can get onto TV shows after the books. Right, focus," he said to himself. "Books, books, English... Holmes? Sherlock Holmes? Oh, and Bond, of course."

"Correct on both accounts," said Arthur. He faked surprise for his next comment. "You're doing rather well."

"Haha, I'm just so awesome, that's why!"

"Yes, yes – any other guesses?"

"Um... Other British-bred crime novels?"

Arthur laughed. "That's quite a broad sweep. But, yes, in general, I enjoy a good mystery novel."

"And fantasy. Do you like Game of Thrones, then?"

"Why, yes, I do find that gripping. Well done, dear."

Alfred almost froze when he heard Arthur call him 'dear'. It was such a lovely word and it was directed at _him_. He felt so lucky. But he kept going lest Arthur spotted his slip. "Well... Fantasy... British... Is Lord of the Rings British?"

"Oh, yes. Those books are just brilliant! Have you read them?"

He looked so excited that Alfred wanted to say yes but he knew better than to lie. "No. I read, like, the first chapter and almost _died_ of boredom. The paragraphs were so long and _nothing happened_!"

"Tsk. I should have known," said Arthur with a small scowl. Alfred was alarmed for a moment until he noticed that Arthur's eyes were shining happily. "A lot of people I've met say that. I've never understood that. I read them all when I was ten."

"Holy-! Seriously? Are you, like, some whiz kid?" asked Alfred, his eyes wide in amazement.

Once again, Arthur laughed. It was such a nice sound; Alfred wanted to keep him laughing forever. Ah, but, then he wouldn't be able to kiss him so that was rather out of the question. "No, I just like to read," explained Arthur.

"So... What else do you like to read, then? Any American novels?"

"Well, I do like James Patterson's work. And, for another British novelist, I like The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. Oh, and not forgetting His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman. Ah-!" He broke off and looked at Alfred sheepishly. "Perhaps we should talk about things you like, Alfred. This list might become quite large."

"Okay..." said Alfred, cursing Arthur's considerateness. He had been wanting to listen to Arthur for longer. "Well, I like movies and TV. Uh, let's see. Star Wars and Star Trek. Stargate. Can't forget the Mission Impossible series."

"So you like explosions and car chases?"

"Well, not just that. I like comedies, too."

"The intellectual sort or the... other sort?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Does it matter? As long as it makes me laugh, I'm cool with it."

"I take it you like to watch porn too?"

The silence stretched for a moment. "What makes you say that?" asked Alfred, miserably. Arthur thought he was a pervert, he had realised. He was probably only here to be polite.

"No! No, I didn't mean it like that. I-I just thought... Well, I mean. Um..." Arthur wrung his hands on his lap, staring at them. "I'm so sorry. I just thought-"

"- that because of my line of work, I'd be watching porn all the time?"

"No! Well. Yes. But not like that! I mean, out of professionalism or-or something like that."

The bespectacled blonde gazed across the table at Arthur. Why was the man saying insulting things without thinking? Was that what he truly thought? Or was he so nervous that something would slip out that he had pushed to the back of his mind? Should he say something? When Arthur next looked up, Alfred could see he was harassed. He also looked rather worried. His concern for Alfred's feelings made the American smile slightly, encouragingly. "It's okay. People think of me like that when they find out what I do. For some reason, though, girls find me all the more attractive... You'd think it'd be the cute guys."

As Alfred grinned at him, Arthur smiled a little but lowered his eyes. He seemed sad and Alfred once again ached to help him. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't look so miserable. Cheer up! We're here for fun!"

Arthur nodded but didn't look up at him. Instead, he chose to look out at the street. Alfred sighed and stood, leaning across the table. This caught Arthur's attention and he turned to look at him, wide-eyed. "What-?" Alfred didn't respond. He grabbed Arthur's face and pulled at his cheeks.

"Smile!" he demanded.

"Alfred! Stop it! Let go of me!"

A cough by their side distracted them both and they looked round. The waiter was standing, waiting for them to get out of his way so he could put the plates down. Alfred hurriedly sat back down and Arthur massaged his face. The plates were set down with a clink and the waiter asked if there was anything else. Arthur sent him away quickly.

For a moment, they sat staring at their scrumptious food and each other. Alfred's stomach grumbled suddenly, slicing through the silence. He gave Arthur, who looked surprised, an apologetic look. The Brit laughed suddenly and Alfred relaxed again, reaching out for his knife and fork. Normally, he would have just scooped it into his gut as quickly as possible to stave off his hunger. Tonight, however, he decided to be more polite. He had to impress Arthur.

Meanwhile, the Brit had taken up his own cutlery and was attempting to cut off a piece of pork. It looked like hard work. For a few minutes, Alfred ate quietly, watching him struggle. Then he swallowed his mouthful. "Do you need help?" he asked.

"N-No..." huffed Arthur, still not getting anywhere. "I can... get it..."

Alfred rolled his eyes with a grin. So he was the kind of person to never ask for help; the kind of person to deal with everything himself. Alfred shrugged and once again leaned across the table. He took Arthur's hands gently in his own. He looked up, surprised and alarmed. Before he could protest, Alfred awkwardly started to cut through the pork, guiding Arthur's hands. He felt rather clever – this was the perfect excuse to hold Arthur's hands.

"Stop. Alfred, stop. This hurts."

Grimacing, Alfred let go hurriedly. "Sorry. I was only trying-" He stopped as he saw Arthur push his plate towards him and held out his knife and fork.

"Um, I'm sorry but could you...?" Arthur asked, blushing and looking away.

"Yeah! 'Course!" He practically grabbed the utensils from Arthur's hands and quickly cut up the pork.

"Thank you," said Arthur as he worked. He sounded relieved and happy. Alfred beamed. When he finally finished, he pushed the plate back and went back to his own meal.

"You sure like to pick difficult things," said Alfred cheerfully though a mouthful of poutine.

Arthur swallowed his mouthful: Alfred watched his Adam's apple bob up and down with fascination. Then he dabbed at his mouth before speaking. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, his tone defensive.

"The pork, Lord of the Rings, working in porn," Alfred listed. "Those are all difficult to do. Especially if you're doing me," he added with a grin.

Across the table, Arthur flushed bright red. "Tha- You- Can we not talk about work, please? It is destroying my appetite."

"Huh?" Alfred stared at him worriedly. "Did you- Did you not enjoy last week? Was I that bad?"

"What?! I- You- I mean. It was..." If possible, Arthur had turned a deeper shade of red. Alfred realised that his outburst had been a protest to what he had suggested. Which meant he _had_ liked it. He grinned and reached across to Arthur.

"It's okay. I understand," he said, trying to take hold of his hands.

The Brit pulled his hands away with a scowl. "No. You don't."

Slowly, Alfred pulled his hands back, taking up his cutlery. Miserably, he chewed at his dinner, wondering what was wrong. He was getting so many mixed signals. "Sorry," he mumbled.

After a short pause, Arthur spoke again. "No, I'm sorry. It's just..." He sighed and Alfred looked up to see Arthur looking rather world-weary. "I have a lot of... problems in my life... Please, just... I don't want to talk about either of my jobs while we're eating. I'd rather just relax."

"And have fun?" asked Alfred with a smile. He was still upset but he thought he understood. Or, perhaps, it was a cultural difference and he would never understand.

"And have fun," agreed Arthur with an apologetic smile. "How is your poutine?"

"It's great!" exclaimed Alfred. "Wanna try a bite?"

"If you wouldn't mind. Though... most of it seems to have... disappeared," he added, pointedly.

Alfred looked down at his mostly empty plate before grinning up at Arthur. "I was hungry," he said. He scooped some up and held it out to Arthur. He was half-hoping that he would let Alfred feed him. Unfortunately, Arthur gently took the fork from Alfred and put it in his mouth. Alfred watched in awe as he slowly took the food from the fork and chewed. When he swallowed, Alfred couldn't suppress a gasp. The Brit looked up in alarm and frowned questioningly. Embarrassed, Alfred glanced away and took back the fork.

"It _is_ good," Arthur conceded. "Do you want to try a bit of the pork?"

With a smile, Alfred nodded. "That'd be nice," he said. He watched as Arthur stabbed a thick, juicy piece of pork and held out the fork. He obviously expected Alfred to take the fork away from him to eat but, instead, Alfred leaned forward. Taking hold of Arthur's hand, he pulled the pork off and chewed at it, gently letting go of Arthur. His fingers brushed lightly along the other's hand before he sat straighter.

The reaction to this simple contact was satisfactory to Alfred. Arthur gasped and dropped his fork in his haste to retract his hand. It landed with a clatter and Arthur realised too late that it would hit his plate. Trying to catch it, he reached out – and sent his glass of wine toppling to the floor of the patio. It landed with a crashing sound and the wine splashed everywhere. A murmur ran round the restaurant as everyone craned to see what the commotion was all about.

A waiter came hurrying over. "I am so sorry," said Arthur breathlessly, making as if to get up to help.

"That is quite all right, sir. I'll clean up – you continue with your meal. I'll bring you another glass."

Once he had left, Arthur grabbed Alfred's glass and poured himself some wine. He downed it in a few gulps – each one causing Alfred's breath to catch – before setting it down with a clatter and a scowl.

"You okay?" Alfred asked hesitantly, worried he would be upset at him.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that," he replied.

"No problem. Hey, the pork's good. You should eat it up."

Arthur rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Yes, mum."

Laughing, Alfred finished off his poutine. The waiter returned with another glass and poured wine in it for Arthur who sipped at it, looking quite calm and civil now. Alfred placed his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand. He watched Arthur eating, his eyes lidded, revelling in every swallow. It was amazing how attractive he was.

When Arthur had finally finished, he looked up at Alfred. "Dessert?" he asked.

"Definitely!"

The Englishman smiled and caught the waiter's attention with a wave of two fingers. He came over and Arthur asked for sticky toffee pudding. Alfred opted for some ice cream with plenty of chocolate sauce.

On their own again, Alfred decided to continue their conversation. "So, what's your favourite colour?"

"Green. Yours?"

"I can never decide between red and blue."

"Ah, you are appropriately dressed, I see. Your... favourite animal, then? Since we're playing twenty questions." He grinned at Alfred and the American felt excited. Arthur was willing to play along. _That must mean he's interested in me,_ he thought to himself.

"Dogs. And yours?"

"Hm, close call between rabbits and cats. Just like your colour dilemma, I can never decide."

"Aw, that's so cute!" exclaimed Alfred. Arthur grimaced. "Or sweet, if you'd prefer that," Alfred covered with a teasing smile.

"Har de har," said Arthur flatly though his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

"Well... Let's see. Favourite bird? Mine's an eagle."

"Figured as much," Arthur replied, smiling slightly. "Well... A bird, hm? I've always liked robins. But I suppose a parrot would be good if I was ever going to be a pirate."

Alfred guffawed so loudly that some other patrons turned to stare and a couple of waiters stopped in alarm. "I'd _love_ to see you be a pirate. I can't wait till Halloween now!"

"Who says I'll be dressed as a pirate?"

"Aw, c'mon! You _have_ to now!"

"I don't have to do anything. And it will entirely depend on the kind of Halloween parties I get invited to."

"Well, you'll definitely be invited to mine and Mattie's. And it's a general thing so you can wear whatever you like. Ah, but... Don't come as a ghost or creepy monster."

"Whyever not?" asked Arthur in surprise.

"Ghosts and monsters really creep me out..." said Alfred sheepishly, staring at the empty table.

"Oh, Alfred. There's nothing to be scared of. Especially from people dressed up as them."

"That's worse – I was bullied by a kid dressed as a ghost one Halloween. It frightened me so much, I thought I was gonna die from fright! Poor Mattie had to beat them away with his hockey stick. He was dressed as a hockey player that year," he added by way of explanation when Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"I see," said Arthur as the desserts came. Alfred almost bounced in his seat as he saw the mound of ice cream before him. He tucked in immediately. "Wait! You'll-" Arthur began but Alfred stopped listening as he moaned and whined at the brain freeze. "-get brain freeze..." finished Arthur with a soft chortle.

The conversation dried up as they ate: Alfred was having problems with his ice cream and the pain in his head. This time, Arthur finished first and he sat, wincing each time Alfred did in sympathy. This just made him all the more attractive in Alfred's opinion.

Finishing, Alfred glanced across the table to Arthur. "I'm okay – I survived!"

"Barely," said Arthur, raising those large eyebrows with a smile. Alfred almost sighed dreamily but snapped himself out of it. The realisation of just how much he was in love with this man hit him at that moment – his brother was right. He'd never felt like this in his life. He felt so happy he could hardly contain it; he felt anxious and nervous; he felt so much more stupid than he already thought of himself; he could feel his heart tightening every time Arthur looked away or drew away or snapped at him. But, the big question for Alfred was, did Arthur feel the same? And what should he do about this?

* * *

They arrived together at the designated room. Alfred's hand had been twitching the whole walk there, itching to hold Arthur's. The Brit seemed unaware, checking his watch and bemoaning that they were going to be late. Alfred just laughed it off, saying that he was always late. Arthur had not been amused and told him that a gentleman was never late.

When they entered, they found Francis, Gilbert and Antonio waiting for them. "The prodigal son returns!" said Francis, speaking to Alfred. "Et our newest member is back. Bien!"

"Yes, yes," said Arthur with a scowl. "Can we just get on with this? In a few hours, I need to be..." He trailed off and glared at the three members of the crew. "I need to be at an appointment, so hurry this up."

"In a few hours?" asked Alfred, glancing at his own watch. "You mean in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Lighten up, dude. We only ever film at night."

Arthur, who was standing quite close to Alfred, leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I'll let you in on a little secret, dear," he said, the word 'dear' sending tingles up Alfred's spine. "There's something called sleep. I rather like it and I'd like to be refreshed in the morning." He straightened up and advanced on Francis. "So? Where's the script?"

The Frenchman sighed and shook his head. "Voíla," he said, handing over a few sheets of paper. Arthur quickly read over it with an occasional snort of derision. Then he turned and headed for the door.

"Shall I stand outside to begin with?" he called over his shoulder.

"If you could, s'il vous plait."

He obeyed, the door closing quietly behind him. Alfred stared at the door for a moment before snapping out of it. He took the script wordlessly, trying not to reveal how hard he was now nor that he was aching because Arthur had disappeared from his sight.

"Al, are you okay?" asked Gilbert. "You seem a little... preoccupied?"

"I-I'm fine," he managed to blurt out, roving his eyes across the pages. It was a good scene – the partner who had been working all day comes home tired. The one already there took it upon themselves to wait for them before they go to bed, wanting to have some fun. "Do you want any changes to what I'm wearing?" he asked Francis as he returned the script.

"Oui. Take your tops off, s'il vous plait." Alfred did so. Once they were in a pile in the corner, he tugged at his jeans, pulling them up a little. "Non, non, cher," said Francis, moving forward. He tugged them back down a little so that they were hanging from his hips again. "That looks trés bien."

Alfred rolled his eyes, his mind wandering. Francis had told him once what "cher" meant. He had been thrilled to be called it to begin with. Now it had no effect on him. But Arthur saying the same word in English in that very British accent of his... A tingle went up his spine again as his brain called up the memory of Arthur's voice.

The cameras turned to the door. Alfred moved to the foot of the bed but stayed standing, a hand on one hip, the other jutting out a little. Francis settled in his chair. Antonio raised his mic. "Action!" called Francis.

For a moment, nothing happened. Alfred thought Francis would have to shout action again. Then the door opened and Arthur entered. He looked weary and miserable and completely appeared to be someone so exhausted that they should go straight to bed. Alfred ignored the sudden impulse to hurry forward and help him to the bed. He also tried to ignore how sexy he was suddenly finding Arthur in his suit. Especially since he was ignoring everyone and taking off his tie. And he was loosening it so damned slowly.

Eventually, he had it off and he threw it to the side, the tie fluttering towards the camera before falling daintily to the floor. Alfred watched its arc and he was sure the viewers would be captivated. Then Arthur moved, straightening and stretching, catching Alfred's attention. He looked up at him and he found the man looking straight at him. For a moment, both of them froze. Then Arthur's brow slowly furrowed in confusion and annoyance.

"Alfred..." he said, tiredly. "Not tonight. Please. I'm way too tired for this..."

The cameras began to swing round and Alfred composed himself quickly, turning his surprised expression into a grinning, teasing one. "Aw, c'mon, Artie. You've been so busy lately. And I've been lonely."

"Yes, yes, whatever you say," said Arthur, moving forward. "I'm just going to go to sleep, all right? You'll just have to wait a little longer until I've finished with this case and-" He didn't get any further – he had walked close enough to Alfred for him to grab the Brit and send him flying onto the bed. Alfred followed, crouching over him on his hands and knees.

"I need you," he told Arthur, his eyes bearing all the conviction he felt. He really needed Arthur. Right this second, he needed and wanted him.

Briefly, Arthur looked surprised. Then he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not going to play your games, Alfred. I'm _really_ tired. I could barely stay awake for most of the proceedings and-" Once again he was interrupted, this time with an open-mouthed kiss from Alfred. This wasn't in the script but Alfred was past caring. He straightened, wondering what Arthur would do now. "_Alfred_," he said in a warning tone. He wasn't sure if he was reminding him about the script or still acting as the lawyer he was supposed to be.

"Yes, honey?" asked Alfred, innocently.

"Stop it," he said shortly. He tried to sit up but was met by Alfred's face. "Let me up," he ordered. "I need to get out of these cloth-" He stopped when he seemed to realise what was about to come next.

"You want out of these? I'll help, of course," Alfred offered with a grin. He grabbed one of Arthur's shoes and tugged it off, ignoring his protests. His socks and shoes were soon flying over his shoulder. He didn't care if they hit anyone. Finally rid of them, he pulled at his jacket.

"Alfred!" Arthur exclaimed as he whacked the American's hands away. "I'm telling you to stop it! Why can't you listen to me? You never listen!" Alfred froze and Arthur rolled onto his side. "If you're not going to let me get up to get changed, I'll just sleep like this." Alfred watched him curl up his legs a little.

He realised he had almost forgotten his lines. The shock of being rejected had pushed it to the back of his mind. But now the rejection made sense. With a growl he flipped Arthur over so he was lying on his back again. He used one hand to pin his arms above him and stared down at him, into his eyes. "Arthur. I may not listen to you at times like this but neither do you. Don't you hear what I'm saying? I need you." Alfred tugged his jeans down, revealing his tented underwear. "I really need you."

"Can't you take care of it yourself?" asked Arthur, seemingly without thinking.

The tears, which usually didn't come naturally during filming, welled up. This was too real now. He wanted Francis and the others to get out. He wanted to tell Arthur how much he loved him. But instead he continued – he had a job to do. "I... I waited for you," he said quietly. "I don't want to have to take care of it myself. I _want_ you."

Silence descended for a moment. The two actors looked at each other. Alfred was trying to hold back tears. Arthur looked rather alarmed. Then his expression softened. "Alfred... Darling, I'm sorry," he said. And those words pierced Alfred's heart, making him love Arthur all the more. 'Darling'. He had called him 'darling'.

"It's fine. Just... let me. Please."

"Oh, very well," said Arthur. "But let go of my hands."

Alfred had a sudden idea. "I'm letting them go for now but... where's your tie?" He stood up and kicked his jeans away, searching for the slip of material. He found Francis dangling it in front of him. Frowning, Alfred glanced at the cameras and saw that they were pointed at the bed, filming Arthur taking off his jacket. Turning back to Francis, he grabbed the tie and hurried back. "No, stop!" he declared.

"What? Why?" asked a confused Arthur. He threw his jacket into the corner, frowning at Alfred.

"You're not allowed to do anything."

"Huh?"

"Look, just..." Alfred took Arthur's hands and gently pulled them above his head, forcing him to lie down again. With the tie, he bound his wrists together.

"Wait. What are you doing?!" exclaimed Arthur. Alfred wasn't sure if he was genuinely alarmed since the script was being abandoned or if he was acting. If it was the former, he kept it together rather well, not once glancing at the others in the room.

Smiling, Alfred leaned over and kissed Arthur's neck. It was a gentle, reassuring kiss and, when he straightened to look at Arthur, he found the Brit gazing at him in puzzlement rather than alarm. "I just want to make it up to you – for not letting you get your sleep. I'll do everything. You just lie there and relax."

Reluctantly, Arthur nodded. "You're not going to..." he began and trailed off.

"What?"

"You're not going to..." Arthur said, blushing, sending Alfred's heart into overdrive. "Use... whips... Or..."

Alfred laughed. "No. I won't hurt you, Arthur." He seemed reassured and nodded at Alfred. The American grinned and pressed his lips against Arthur's. Before Arthur could kiss back, however, he pulled away and kissed at his cheekbone. Then at his eyebrows, his mouth again and then at his jaw.

"Um, Alfred, what on Earth are you doing? Are you a bird?" Arthur asked, hesitantly. Alfred snorted in amusement and shook his head. "Then, what-?"

Placing a finger at Arthur's lips, Alfred shook his head. "Shush. Let me work here." Arthur looked very amused at that line and Alfred felt very proud of himself – he hadn't meant it to tie in with their theme for the day (whatever that was) but it had worked. He was so busy marvelling at his genius that he was taken completely by surprise when Arthur licked at his finger. He froze and watched as Arthur's tongue traced its way to his fingertip before slowly enveloping it with his mouth. Alfred gasped and moaned in pleasure. Damn, had he been researching all week? How could he have gotten so good in one week?

Not wanting to disturb his partner, Alfred leaned over and kissed at his neck, this time using his teeth and leaving marks. Arthur hummed around his finger and nibbled at it too. Since they were both nibbling, Alfred decided to shift and this time he nibbled on Arthur's ear. He felt and heard a questioning hum from Arthur so he stopped and sat up again, smiling down at Arthur as he continued to move his tongue around Alfred's finger, sucking at it a little. Alfred wondered how long he would keep this up for. He watched him for a moment, surveying his red cheeks and his messy hair. A strand of the blonde locks had fallen over his eye and Alfred gently brushed it aside. Then his hand continued down the side of Arthur's face – the Brit leaned into the touch, biting at Alfred's knuckle – down his neck and stopped at his chest. Arthur was still wearing his shirt. Urgently, Alfred began to pull at it, trying to remove it with one hand.

His finger was freed as Arthur chuckled. "Do you need some help, dear?" he asked, grinning mischievously up at him. Alfred frantically shook his head and used both hands to pull and tug until the buttons had become undone. Arthur watched calmly, an amused expression present throughout. Annoyed, when he finally got his shirt open enough to see his chest, Alfred immediately leaned over and bit at one of his nipples. He relished the gasp from Arthur.

"What was that about help?" he asked, reaching down between Arthur's legs.

"Ah, no, don't touch there yet!" exclaimed Arthur, worriedly. But he was too late, for Alfred already had his hand on the bulge in his pants. "Ah!" the Brit gasped. Alfred was pleased at the reaction and so began to rub at him. "N-N-ah!" said Arthur even as he bucked into Alfred's hand. The American froze and gazed down at his partner.

"Do you think I can make you come just from this?" he asked, innocently.

"D-Don't! I won't let you-ah!" Arthur tried to say even as Alfred rubbed at him. "I won't let you," he panted, "go any further... if you make me come... now." This had the desired effect and Alfred quit rubbing at him.

"But Arthur!" he whined. "I want to hear you make those amazing sounds again!"

After a moment's hesitation, Arthur said, "Come down here. Closer to my mouth."

Alfred obeyed instantly. "Do you want a kiss-?" Alfred began. But Arthur stopped him by moaning and groaning in his ear. Alfred was panting by the time Arthur stopped and he sat back up. He shifted uncomfortably, the bulge in his underwear so painfully obvious. For a moment they looked at each other, each wordlessly asking what was next on the agenda.

"If you want to, you can just go straight for it," said Arthur generously. "Just... Let me, uh, lubricate your fingers first."

"Lubrica-? Oh, you want to suck on my fingers? Fine by me!" Alfred held out his hand.

"No, dolt – after you've taken off my trousers."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." Alfred quickly unbuckled Arthur's belt and tugged at his pants and underwear until he had gotten them completely off. He tossed them to the side, his underwear following them. He looked back down at Arthur – his shirt was still on him, held on by his arms and the fact that he was lying on it. It turned Alfred on much more than before and he moaned involuntarily. "God, Arthur – you are so sexy," he muttered. This caused Arthur to blush deeply and Alfred hummed his approval. "And cute when you blush. Cute and sexy and amazing – and British."

This caused Arthur to laugh. "British? What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with it. Your accent is sexy and whenever you say anything, it sends me shooting straight up. If you know what I mean," he added with a wink.

Arthur's blush darkened. "Idiot," he muttered.

"Oh, yes!" breathed Alfred, a teasing grin on his face.

"Just get on with it, will you?"

"Ah, but I could come just listening to you!"

"Really? Then perhaps I should lecture you on the etiquette of good sex – never leave your partner hanging or feeling unsatisfied. Hurry it up!"

"Well, that's just not nice, Artie. You should ask me nicer."

"What?! I thought we were doing it once you'd taken off my trousers!"

"You didn't ask nicely," said Alfred, ignoring him. He leaned over, keeping his arms and legs to either side of his partner, avoiding touching him. Letting his tongue flick out, he licked gently at Arthur – at his stomach, his nipples, his collarbone. Each time he received a gasp.

"Alfred," panted Arthur. "Alfred, please."

"'Please' what?" asked Alfred, innocently.

Arthur propped himself up on his elbows and Alfred looked up at his lust-filled eyes. "Please," he pleaded again. "I need you inside me."

That was all Alfred needed. He pushed Arthur back down, lifted his legs, spread them and then stuck his fingers into Arthur's mouth. The man urgently sucked and licked at them. Pulling them out, a string of saliva came with it and broke but Alfred didn't dwell on that, quickly pushing into Arthur. The smaller man gasped and bucked. Alfred merely pressed his lips to Arthur's forehead and pushed another finger in. Once he had three in, Arthur gasping and squirming beneath him, he stretched him out.

Finally, he pulled his fingers out and manoeuvred himself into a better position. Then he pushed in, slowly. Arthur tried to relax but he was gasping and holding his tie tightly. Alfred was accepted but the other tensed around him and he almost came right there. Grunting, he pushed in further until he was as far as he could go.

"Ah-Al... fred..." gasped Arthur.

"Artie. God," breathed Alfred, realising something. It was too late now but he had completely forgotten about the condoms. He could feel Arthur all around him – and it was so good.

He began to move, thrusting in and out. Each time he moved all the way into Arthur, the man yelled out. To begin with, it was just random cries. Then he began to shout out Alfred's name. "Alfred! Alfre-ah! Al!" The American absolutely loved it. He began to move faster: Arthur shouted his name more often, followed by groans. He tried to move deeper and Arthur suddenly tensed and bucked as Alfred hit his prostate. "Alfred! I-ah!"

"Artie, Artie, you're so good," Alfred panted, thrusting in deeper and faster. He felt like he couldn't stop. Yet he could feel himself coming close. The pressure from Arthur, the moaning, his name being called. Finally, he couldn't take it any more. "Artie. Coming," he grunted.

"Not. In. Me," panted Arthur, still bucking his hips. "No. Condom," he gasped.

"Can't," mumbled Alfred as he came against Arthur's sweet spot. The American watched as Arthur came too, the sticky substance covering his stomach. Breathing heavily, Alfred dropped down beside Arthur, removing himself from his partner as he flopped down. He wrapped his arms around Arthur, wrapping his legs around the Brit's.

"Alfred," muttered Arthur sleepily.

"Yeah?" he replied, kissing Arthur's shoulder.

"Can you untie me?"

"Sure," he conceded, tugging at the material so that it slipped off. Once it had fallen to the folds of the now messy bed, Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred. The American was ecstatic and wrapped his arms around the Englishman's waist.

"We should get some sleep," said Arthur, burying his head in Alfred's shoulder.

"Yeah."

"Especially since we need to get up early tomorrow."

"Hm?"

"Well, if we don't get up early, we can't have sex before I go to work."

Alfred, who had been nodding off, suddenly woke up, his eyes widening. "Huh?" he asked, both happy and surprised.

"Coupez!" came a French voice from the edge of the room. It shocked Alfred and he sat up, confused for a moment. He remembered where he was a moment later when Arthur pushed his arms off and hurriedly stood up.

"Urgh," he said. He didn't elaborate but he didn't need to when he turned to Francis and asked him, "Are there showers here?"

"Oui. This is an en suite. Through that door there."

Alfred watched with wide eyes as Arthur gathered his clothes without looking at him. Then he disappeared through the door. He blinked once he had gone and looked round at the three other men present. Francis had his hands between his legs – he looked like he needed to get off somehow. Gilbert was squirming in his seat, his phone in his hand – he was probably going to call Mattie. Antonio had a slight blush but he was still smiling obliviously. Alfred gathered up his own clothes and grabbed a tissue: he'd shower when he got home. "Was that, uh, good?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"Bien! Trés bien! Ah, you had moi reaching for my zip!" exclaimed Francis. "You have real chemistry with this man. This is bien. It adds realism to your acting et your sex is explosive." He paused to wink. "There is something else... You are different somehow..."

Deciding not to tell Francis about how he felt, Alfred shrugged. "Uh... I had dinner at a fancy restaurant before coming here."

"Vraiment?" asked Francis, an eyebrow raised. Alfred had a feeling that he knew what was going on.

"Yeah. It was tasty. And I'd love to go back again and try more." _With Arthur._

"Would you like moi to take you there again?"

"No, thanks. You wouldn't like it, anyway."

Pulling on his clothes, Alfred caught part of Gilbert's conversation. "Mattie," he whined. "I really need to come over... But, Mattie!"

With a grin, Alfred bounced over and whispered in Gil's ear. "Just go over. He'd _love_ to see you."

It was at this exact moment that Arthur emerged from the bathroom. Alfred spun round, frightened he would think he was doing something with Gilbert. The Brit simply glanced at them before heading for the door.

"Leaving already, mon amour?" asked Francis

"Yes. I will see you next week everyone. Goodnight." And with that, he was gone and Alfred was left with a horrible sinking feeling.

* * *

_**So, uh. This turned out to be longer than expected. (14 pages?!) My basic idea was: they meet up for dinner, they go to the hotel, they do their job, end chapter. And then I got to the conversation and it kind of just flowed out of me.  
**_

_**The Parish is an actual restaurant and I have no idea how it looks, etc. I got the discription of the street below from a review and actually glanced at their menu. The menu didn't have desserts but the review said something about sticky toffee pudding. It's a gastropub, by the way, which is just a fancy pub or a strange restaurant by the sounds of it. It really does have poutine on the menu.**_

_**Most of the books mentioned are books I've heard of and I got from the top of my mind. I have no idea about Game of Thrones.**_

_**Alfred likes Mission Impossible because it was on TV while I was writing this and it's the one spy thing that's American. So, y'know. It's also pretty cool, so, y'know.**_

_**The birds are their national birds. (But the parrot was just as an afterthought.)**_

_**The conversation and Arthur's attitude is all over the place. There's a reason for this but, still.**_

_**I don't like wine. So I have no idea about it. That's why there's that mess of a description. I didn't think Alfred was a wine kinda person - I would guess he'd love sweet cocktails and things that tasted almost of Coke.**_

_**The thing about the condom... I started writing the section with Alfred, er, going in(?) and completely forgot to mention one. So I just decided it would be interesting to have him not have one on cause he'd been too caught up in the moment to put one on.**_

_**Holding Out For a Hero came to mind cause Alfred likes heroes. And I have absolutely no idea where that came from other than I thought it was called Hero.**_

_**{As an aside, after these events, Antonio trooped over to Lovino's and they, er, did it on Lovi's desk. Gil went in a taxi with Al to their apartment and Mattie let him in - Al played games while they went into their bedroom. Francis disappeared. No-one knows what he got up to. Arthur went home.}**_

_**Arthur actually pronounces the Mirror of Erised inscription correctly. He also uses a quote from Sonnet 18 for the Shakespeare mention. (I almost made a very grave error. For some reason I thought Robert Burns' "My love is like a red, red rose" was part of a Shakespearean sonnet. O.o ) His favourite character is Neville mainly so he has a reason for his outburst but also cause it makes sense considering his family history. A little. Also, I like Neville, okay?**_

_**Alfred's favourite colours are red and blue cause a lot of heroes have those colours. What he's wearing was just a coincidence when I was writing but quite a happy one.**_

_**I think that's all I need to point out.  
**_


End file.
